This place was a tourist bucket list. In our travels we had skirted around it several times but the opportunity had never quite presented itself. This time I built it in from the start. I booked a little airbnb just down the road, with bikes, and envisaged zipping up and down to the island to watch it present itself in differing tide and light. As we know envisaging can be a dangerous thing.
We meander up the coast stopping along the way, taking a detour to stop at the village where our Mount Maunganui neighbour is from. We take the obligatory selfie and message it to them then arrive late afternoon and of course it is raining. We are blessed with a washing machine so I get started on that, although I am yet to ponder how I will get it dry. As the clouds clear we get out the bikes ready to ride down the greeenway to the Mont.
It’s about 20 minutes our host tells us. About 5 or 6 kms. No worries. 30 minutes later I am dearly missing my electric bike and so are my hips and so is my butt, and we are still not there.
Although its appearance in the distance, all be it on zoom, is promising. We arrive at its gate and take in the view. I inform WH that I do not think we shall bike back in the morning. It’s high tide at 7.30am so I am keen to come back then. We turn around and bike back home whereby my watch informs me I have cycled for 17 kilometres, which is definitely more than 12.
I watch a pries walk over the bridge and my mind goes back to the questions with no answers. What is he contemplating? I watch form a safe distance and he looks so serious, as if he is definitely on a mission. I wonder what his mission is? Does he live on the Mont and is this his morning stroll?
We head back in the morning, this time in the car. You park in the car park and then take a bus to the entrance. There is hardly anyone there and it’s nice. We make our way to the top but the Abbey doesn’t open until 9 so we wander back down. I have no. after effects form the cycle which is good but as we traipse down all the steps to go back down my knees are already protesting a return. I decide to book tickets for this afternoon and book the last one of the day at 5pm deciding we can then have dinner after before heading home.
Up, up, up and up.
We stop and watch a helicopter making numerous deliveries of building supplies and enjoy the view.
It rains most of the day and we head to the village for lunch. The specialty of the area is lamb so that’s what we have. It’s hard to tell them its not as good as ours but with only us and one other couple in the restaurant the chef and waitress come out and we have a broken English/french conversation , which is nice and passes away the time.
We head back to the Mont for our tour and the sun makes an appearance.
We walk to the top yet again and hear the history of this amazing place whose original begin in around the year 500. There are only 8 of us on our tour but it appears WH and I are the only ones who don’t know the bible very well so we nod a lot. Our guide is very good and as far as tours go its a good one and sure beats a tourist train.
There is giant wheel there which was the elevator to bring things up from below when the Abbey was taken over for a prison. Six prisoner used to be inside the wheel turning it, like a rat wheel, to bring things up.
We once again descend the stairs and find somewhere to eat. This time we have the omelette which is again a speciality. It’s yum.
I am really pleased to say that I have been. It was great despite the weather. My tips for wannabe Mont St Michele visitors is to stay close or get electric bikes. That way you can enjoy the light and tides easily.
I sit at the airport and write this and need to get cracking as boarding will be soon, so there is no time for proof reading. I would love to say that I will finish off tomorrow with a wrap up from London. Bur I probably wont. Quess what, it rained.